Centurion
by SassyJ
Summary: Just another number, one more charity ball, and an interesting new dynamic for Finch and Reese to try and figure out.


_Centurions had to be literate, have connections (letters of recommendation), be at least 30 years of age, and had already served a few years in the military._

_The centurion in the infantry is chosen for his size, strength and dexterity in throwing his missile weapons and for his skill in the use of his sword and shield; in short for his expertness in all the exercises. He is to be vigilant, temperate, active and readier to execute the orders he receives than to talk; Strict in exercising and keeping up proper discipline among his soldiers, in obliging them to appear clean and well-dressed and to have their arms constantly rubbed and bright. (__Vegetius__. __De Re Militari__,__[11]__ II, 14 )_

* * *

"Finch, this is ridiculous." Reese rolled his eyes, clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth.

"Mr Reese, while you may find the costume not to your liking, this is a fancy-dress ball, this is the only way to get close to the number and I happen to think that Miss Chopra has found an ideal costume for you." Finch's lips compressed in that straight line which Reese knew meant he was not up for an argument on the subject.

"And whose idea was it to have Sunny come with me?" Reese snapped, finding it impossible to keep the anxiety out of his tone.

Finch sighed. But inwardly. In truth he wasn't so enamored of the idea of having Miss Sunehri Chopra as Mr John Reese's 'partner' in this little enterprise, but since Sunehri was the one who had wrangled the invitations, found the costumes, and had successfully distracted John from his gloom over a case involving a child that turned out to be not so child-like and she was adaptive and cunning to the extent that even Zoe used her services, Finch was prepared to go along with this. Whilst Zoe or even Joss Carter might have been a better choice on paper, Sunehri was also fiercely loyal to John.

Finch sighed again. Just the thought of the Peter Maybury case made him feel sick. Nine year old boys were not meant to be heartless killers. The cold cunning of a child who had manipulated his educationally subnormal uncle to kill first his mother and then his father made Finch feel physically sick.

John had walked away from that one with cuts and bruises, and a pain in his heart that even Finch, for all their increased closeness and better understanding of each other's needs and desires, had found impossible to soothe. It took a devious young woman and another game of one on one in the pouring rain to get John laughing again.

Besides, the event was, once again, at the museum. Sunehri had all the right passes, and knew the museum's labyrinthine corridors like the back of her hand. Any number of dubious hiding places, needed exits and back up in the form of Sunehri's boss, Dr Cooper. Curiously, for Finch and Reese there really was no downside.

Finch thought about the three women who revolved around Reese. Joss Carter, detective, hard-working, loyal, honest, the one that Reese had placed on a pedestal, the one who had been the direct cause of him being brutally gunned down by a CIA sniper; the one that Finch still had a hard time forgiving. Then there was Zoe Morgan, beautiful, smart, with a genius for trouble, and dangerous secrets, in it for what she could get out of it, or so Finch might have believed, if a certain conversation between Zoe and a young woman had not revealed what Finch was absolutely sure that Zoe would rather have not revealed. And Sunehri.

He was absolutely at a loss with Sunehri. She was young, 28 to John's 44, which didn't mean a hill of beans in today's society, she was stunningly beautiful, men regardless of age seemed happy to try and throw themselves at her feet, she was lively and funny and her attempts to engage John, whilst deeply unnerving initially for Finch, were imaginative and charming. As far as Finch could tell, Sunehri Chopra was nursing a giant-sized crush on John Reese, something that only seemed to increase with time and contact.

John himself seemed incapable of resisting her. Goofy games of basketball on courts all over the city, never the same one twice in a row, in the rain, in the middle of the night, in the early hours, sometimes even in broad daylight… John smiled more readily now. He was still the serious, sometimes apparently emotionless, operative that Finch had hired, but the girl had given him something that Finch, and John's attraction to both Joss and Zoe hadn't, or couldn't. Sunehri made him happy.

It was often only fleeting, but one of Sunehri's crazy invitations always brought a smile of sorts to John's face.

Finch jumped. Realised that he had tuned out most of Reese's grumpy rant, and wondered what he had missed of significance, although he retained enough of it to hear "…make sure she doesn't trip over her cloak and dagger…" which might have been funny if there wasn't a black scowl on Reese's face when he said it.

"Mr Reese, we don't have much time, you might need to…"

Reese grabbed the bags containing his costume and stalked off in the direction of the bathroom before Finch had even had time to complete the sentence.

_Oh we are really in for it tonight_, Finch had pangs of regret in agreeing to this. Reese was the consummate professional. He could handle himself, and any number of women, and pare everything down to survival. He was trained for it and he was good at it. Sunehri would never distract John or put him at risk intentionally.

Finch was a rational man. He despised all those ridiculous ideas of hunches, and gut instinct. Unscientific. Nonsense.

A chill crept up his spine.

* * *

John raked his hands through his hair, scrubbing with his fingers to get the last of the shampoo out, the shower cascading down over his head, his eyes closed he tried emptying his mind and just letting the water flow.

As loathe as he really was to admit it, the one place he really felt absolutely safe and secure was the library. Finch had the place fitted up like a fortress, and that was something that John had contemplated expanding on. So if they ever needed it, they could hole up for several days, the one place that none of their acquaintance knew about.

Finishing up, Reese dried himself off. Scrubbed a dry towel over his hair and examined himself in the mirror. He normally tamed his unruly, short-cropped hair with enough gel to ensure that it was smooth and stayed where it was supposed to. The irritating cowlick that stood up at inopportune moments generally sagged under the weight of hair product, which suited him fine.

_What's wrong with my hair?_

_It's trying too hard_.

He grinned, despite his irritation with the costume and the situation. Reached out for the tub of gel that he used, then stopped.

It was childish and possibly even dangerous, but something in Sunny's green eyes challenging him when she handed over the costume made him want to live up to her imagination.

The costume. He had absolutely no idea where she had got it from. A cursory glance told him that it was no costume shop special, but expensively made, possibly even a custom job. A centurion.

Somewhere deep inside a small kernel of pleasure unfurled, a little pride that she saw him as a noble Roman soldier.

When he was finally dressed, even down to the heavy sandals, he stared at himself in the mirror, grateful that a pair of black stretch shorts had been included. The costume fit him perfectly, but the _skirt_ was very short. Reese was not exactly shy, but this was a lot more _exposure_ than he was used to.

* * *

Sunehri checked her reflection for the fifth time in the mirror.

"You look just fine. Got your cards for tonight?"

Sunehri turned, quirked an eyebrow in irritation and stared levelly at her boss. "Yes. And how come you are getting me to do your dirty work for you?" She wagged a finger.

Lee swiveled on her chair and slumped in a relaxed way into it. "When we began this partnership, one of the things we agreed on, is that I do the science, you do the schmooze."

"Yes, but…"

"And, since I never do dress-up, this evening affords you the perfect opportunity to do what you do best _and_ have some free time with John."

Sunehri blushed. "They have someone to protect, I am just helping them do that."

"Them?"

Lee didn't press the point. This strange relationship had begun because Sunehri's curiosity got the better of her common sense, and contact had been initiated because Sunehri wanted to irritate Zoe Morgan. Then it had grown all by itself.

It seemed to make them both happy. Crazy games of basketball and strange dinner dates that usually involved burgers and beer, occasionally even sparring together. On paper that one was really odd. Five foot four inch, one hundred pound Sunehri facing off against John's six foot two, one hundred eighty-five pound frame. But Sunehri was fast and deceptively strong, and it was practice. He was teaching her a variety of hand to hand techniques, she was teaching him some Indian martial arts that her father had taught her when she was a child. So they both got something out of it.

They were friends.

But that didn't quite explain why Sunehri was studying her reflection in the mirror with such intensity, nor why she had chosen as her costume a sari of exceptional quality and detail. The gold and brown silk flowed over her flawless body, and did wonders for her complexion.

Lee sighed with some irritation. She had seen the sign in list of guests for this event, Zoe Morgan would be there. Sometimes Sunehri's insecurities manifested themselves in competition. Zoe was a beautiful and sophisticated woman, and John was attracted to her. That was the only trigger Sunehri needed.

Lee just hoped that the man they were watching out for was worth it.


End file.
